


It's a Nice Day for a White Wedding

by HoopyFrood



Category: Professional Wrestling
Genre: Crack Treated Seriously, Fluff, M/M, Male-Female Friendship, Weddings, canon use of capslock, weirdos in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-10
Updated: 2020-02-10
Packaged: 2021-02-27 22:20:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22643248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HoopyFrood/pseuds/HoopyFrood
Summary: Wrangling WARHORSE into a suit is just as difficult as Kylie envisioned.
Relationships: Jake Parnell | WARHORSE/Danhausen
Comments: 7
Kudos: 15





	It's a Nice Day for a White Wedding

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired entirely by [this](https://twitter.com/JPWarHorse/status/1222224565625151489) tweet from WARHORSE.

“I HATE THIS.”

Kylie smooths her hands down the front of WARHORSE’s suit, fixing the wrinkles and pulling it straight so it sits well on his frame as she goes.

“I know you do, but you look so nice,” she assures him. WARHORSE pulls a face as he looks at them both in the mirror. 

Despite the perpetual state of panic she’s been operating under since she woke up, Kylie’s hair and make-up is holding up surprisingly well. Her bow is still sitting high on her head and the smokey eye the make-up artist had insisted on has yet to melt off her face. Which in itself is a minor miracle considering how much she’s been running around. It’s quite possible she’s sweated more over the last few hours than she ever has inside a wrestling ring.

“NICE? WARHORSE DID NOT GET INTO THE SPORT OF PROFESSIONAL WRESTLING TO LOOK NICE. I LOOK LIKE I’M GOING TO COURT. AND NOT FOR SOMETHING COOL, EITHER.”

“That’s not true.”

“LIKE SPEEDING IN A SCHOOL ZONE OR GETTING CAUGHT SPRAY PAINTING DICKS ON THE SIDE OF A TACO BELL.”

Kylie sighs, her shoulders slumping in defeat.

Most of the wedding planning had been easy. They weren’t short of venues to choose from, what with practically every hall and club they’d ever wrestled at offering up their services, and sending out invitations hadn't been an issue as all they needed to do was take them to the shows they were booked on and just pass them out backstage between matches. What to wear had been the biggest obstacle. And Kylie had really tried her best. She’d suggested a suit with a blood red lining that matched his tie, switched out a white shirt for a black one, and even found some silver cufflinks in the shape of little hands throwing up the devil horns. But looking at him now, only an hour away from actually getting married, she wonders if she didn’t do enough. 

She needs to rectify this. It’s her duty as Best Woman.

Luckily, she’s gifted a little more time to think by a knock on the door. “Stay here and try not to, I don’t know, rip the arms off the jacket or something,” she pleads with him before darting out of the room and into the hall.

“You look like you’re having about as much fun as I am,” Effy greets when she shuts the door. Gone is the familiar pink spiked jacket, fishnets, and trunks blazoned with _Daddy_ across the crotch and in their place is a sleek fitted suit accented with a pink tie and pocket square to add a touch of personality. He wouldn’t look out of place sat behind a mahogany desk in the largest office of an upscale fashion magazine.

She claps her hands together and giddily bounces on the balls of her feet. “You look lovely!”

Effy grins. “I’ve been known to rock a suit every now and then,” he says. “How’s it going?”

“Terribly. He hates the suit,” Kylie admits.

“I’m honestly impressed you got him into it in the first place.”

“Me too,” Kylie agrees. “I think he was just humouring me. Which is… kind of sweet, actually, but it’s his wedding day; the last thing I want is for him to be uncomfortable. But it’s also _his wedding day_. That’s a big deal! He should look a little smarter than usual, right?”

“You and I both know he would have been more than happy to just wear his ring-gear,” Effy points out, laughing when she attempts to muffle a groan into her hands. “Look, it’s about compromise. Danhausen has been pestering me for weeks about wearing a cape during the ceremony so I said to him this morning that he can wear whatever the hell he wants as long as he doesn’t take his jar of teeth with him down the aisle. Thankfully, he agreed. And you know how much he wanted Tequila to be their first dance? I managed to convince him to put it a little further down on the playlist because people are more likely to get up and dance when they’ve had time to take advantage of the open bar. Things like that. I’m sure you’ll think of something.”

She exhales slowly and smiles up at him, mind already working a mile a minute on what she could do. Maybe he could ditch the tie? Roll up his sleeves? “Thanks, Effy.”

He kisses her on the cheek. “No problem. Oh, shit, I almost forgot what I came to tell you. Could you let WARHORSE know the Slayer tribute band has arrived?”

When she lets herself back into WARHORSE’s hotel room, she finds him where she left him, standing in front of the mirror, a complicated look on his face. Glancing around the room, desperate for inspiration, her gaze eventually comes to rest on his denim vest thrown over the back of a chair. She brightens. “How do you feel about wearing your vest instead of a waistcoat?”

He looks up sharply. “DO I STILL HAVE TO WEAR THE JACKET OVER IT?” He asks cautiously.

“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to,” she assures him. “We all love you just the way you are and this day is about you and Danhausen, no one else.” She holds out his vest to him and watches with bated breath as he slips it on with practised ease. Suddenly, it’s WARHORSE in front of her again.

Kylie starts to tear up. WARHORSE panics. “PLEASE DON’T CRY. I’LL WEAR THE JACKET.”

She punches him lightly in the arm. “That’s not why I’m crying, idiot. I’m just so happy for you.”

“I’M SORRY I’VE BEEN SO DIFFICULT.”

Kylie flaps her hand dismissively. “Don’t be silly.”

“I KNOW I CAN BE AN ASSHOLE AND ALL YOU’VE BEEN TRYING TO DO IS MAKE SURE TODAY IS SPECIAL. I COULDN’T HAVE PICKED A BETTER BEST WOMAN. YOU’RE FUCKING HARDCORE, LITTLE WARPONY.”

She flings her arms around him and lifts him off his feet in a bear hug. She squeezes tightly for a few selfish seconds before reluctantly putting him down. They both turn back towards the mirror. The difference is like night and day. He’s no longer hunched over, arms ramrod straight at his side. Instead he’s the WARHORSE she sees dominating in the ring every week. Confident, dangerous, and ready to rule ass.

“Not bad. Not bad at all.”

WARHORSE nods. “THERE’S JUST ONE THING MISSING. COULD YOU HELP ME WITH MY FACEPAINT?”

Kylie beams, the tears finally breaking free and rolling down her cheeks. “I’d love to! By the way, Effy said the Slayer tribute band has arrived.”

“FUCK YEAH.”


End file.
